


Heart to Heart

by plottingalong



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Septimus Heap - Angie Sage, TodHunter Moon Series - Angie Sage
Genre: Angst and Feels, Character Death, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Evil Queen - Freeform, F/M, OUAT - Freeform, Regina Mills - Freeform, Young Evil Queen | Regina Mills, septimus heap - Freeform, septimus heap/ouat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:08:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25420642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plottingalong/pseuds/plottingalong
Relationships: Milo Banda/Marcia Overstrand
Kudos: 1





	Heart to Heart

“Tell me its location,” the voice boomed, shattering her eardrums. “Now, before I kill you.” 

“No.” Marcia Overstrand found the last remains of her throat and spat them at the woman in red. 

Marcia would’ve admired the woman’s shiny black boots that curled like snakes and almost seemed to glow in the bright electric light, if the shoes weren’t liberally sprinkled with her blood and tears. The shoes were the only thing the ExtraOrdinary Wizard could see from her position on the floor, hemmed by a blood-red dress that swished every time her punisher took a step. 

“You will tell me,” her torturer said, her voice the crackling of a forest fire, consuming, destructing, “you will tell me, or die.”

Marcia stayed silent, hoping, praying that a tired smile wasn’t creeping across her bloodstained face. This was the end. She was beaten by this mysterious woman in red, discarded on the floor, the purple shoes she was so proud of crushed to bits underneath the red woman’s impressive heels. At least she’d died to save her country, refusing to tell this foreigner where the Tower lay. 

“One last warning. Tell me.” Her captor’s voice was now hard and commanding, queenlike, even. 

Marcia shook her head, the black curls lined with grey sweeping against the floor wet with tears.

The searing pain hit again, the feeling of nerves going haywire, twisting, turning, pulling yet another scream from her raw throat. There were tears obscuring her vision, and her chest was heaving uncontrollably, and everything was a mass of shaking agony, until she was nothing but scattered thoughts of pain and mercy, strewn on the cold white floor.

Something made her look up, tilt her chin against the white tiles and stare through the tangle of tears and hair. Her heart leapt for a tiny moment as she saw old, scuffed boots, stained with saltwater, and tucked over them canvas pants.  
She knew who it was before he opened his mouth, and when he did she wished he hadn’t.

“Marcy?” Milo Banda’s voice was strained and overwhelmed, choked by the grasping, pale hand tightly clenched around his neck. 

“Tell me,” her captor said coldly, “or I rip his heart out.” 

“Marcy?” Milo’s voice was weak now, and scared. It brought more pain to her than the gut-wrenching torture. 

“Marcy, what does she want?”

Marcia could only shake her head now, too broken to answer, and her captor hissed in triumph, suddenly diverting her attention to Milo. 

“Tell me where the Wet Land Across the Sea is,” she said, her voice suddenly cunning, “and I will let your girlfriend live. Fail to tell me and I will kill her before your eyes.”

Milo gasped as Marcia cried out in protest, just as a sharp pain hit her chest. Seemingly ripped out in front of her was a wet, slimy substance that thumped pitifully, like a caged animal. 

“Your girlfriend’s heart,” she said coldly. “Tell me or I will smash it and she will die.”

Milo’s eyes grew wide. He couldn’t lose Marcia. He had no choice. He whispered the location, the sound of destruction emitting from his lips.  
“No!” Marcia cried out, but with a shove her heart was returned to her body and the pain in her chest subsided.

As she watched, the woman in red threw Milo to the floor and with a violent pull tugged his heart out. It lay in her fingers for a moment before she crushed it, the red blood oozing down her fingers. Milo twitched, the face she loved creasing, and went motionless, and Marcia yelled in pain, trying to reach him, but discovering she couldn’t. The woman in red dusted off her dress and smiled. She walked off, her heels echoing on the white floor, tippity-tap. Marcia had nothing to live for anymore. They were all dead.

“Forgive me,” she muttered, before closing her eyes, unable to feel anymore, “forgive me.”

As Marcia Overstrand fell into deep slumber, Regina Mills stood in the charred remains of the Wet Land Across the sea. Magyk buzzed in the air, but everything else was ashes, ashes that she had created from beautiful buildings. Every man, woman and child here was dead. All the magic here was hers, hers to use and grow powerful. She could feel it surging in her bones as she looked on at the remains of a silver belt resting on the ground, wrapped tightly around a young skeleton, hand in hand with a skeleton with a crown atop it’s head. They might have once been important, but they were now mere memory. She was the important one now, a living, blazing thing among the remains of life.


End file.
